


The Twilight of the Doctor

by kesomon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode AU: The Day of the Doctor, Episode Tag, Fluff, Gen, Grief, Humor, Time War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesomon/pseuds/kesomon
Summary: The Doctors looked on in bemusement as their past-and-future self was hauled down for a very enthusiastic snog by a very determined queen.“Does this sort of thing happen a lot in the future?” the eighth wondered aloud, tilting his head.The eleventh turned to stare at his younger self. “Youstarted it!”AU to The Day of the Doctor: What if Eight had been in the crossover in place of the War Doctor? And why was Nine absent?





	The Twilight of the Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> I love the War Doctor, but I also love the previous headcanons about the Eighth Doctor, one of the gentlest incarnations, being forced to fight the Doctor's bloodiest war. I also love the headcanon that the leather jacket the Ninth Doctor wears used to belong to Fitz Kreiner, and that Fitz might've died soon after the Moment was used, explaining his presence here.
> 
> So here is a scene from The Day of the Doctor, re-imagined if Eight and Fitz were there in place of War, spun purely from the imagined exchange about that kiss because, really, it was Eight who started snogging people, we can't blame any of it on the later versions.
> 
> (and also because War/Eight needs a hug and the Doctor didn't have to do it alone EVER and I have feels about this.)
> 
> Crossposted to [Teaspoon and an Open Mind](http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=61867)

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The Doctors looked on in bemusement as their past-and-future self was hauled down for a very enthusiastic snog by a very determined queen. Playing the part of maid-of-honour, Clara whooped, tossing a handful of confetti over the ‘happy couple.’ The eleventh incarnation looked mildly embarrassed, fingers twitching in an aborted urge to fix his bowtie. The eighth stared in fascination, hands clasped behind his back. Of them all, he looked the most out of place in his soot-begrimed coat and cravat, though he’d made an effort to wash his face for the occasion.

“Does this sort of thing happen a lot in the future?” he wondered aloud, tilting his head.

The eleventh turned to stare at his younger self. “ _You_  started it!”

On the eighth’s other side, Fitz snorted, hiding a grin behind his hand, as the Doctor cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “Ah, well,” he said wistfully, a faint blush suffusing his cheeks, “something to look forward to, I suppose.”

It was gallows humour, echoed in the twist of his mouth and the shadows of his eyes. None of them could forget the  _when_ he’d come from.

The eleventh reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder, solid and comforting. It was joined by Fitz’s arm, draped around the Doctor’s shoulders. The eighth leaned into his companion’s side with a soft, weary sigh, earning a gentle squeeze.

“It’s odd,” Fitz remarked, watching the tenth incarnation of the Time Lord fumble excuses to his new ‘bride’ about the urgency of dealing with the Zygons and temporal paradoxes before consummating their ‘marital bliss’. “We’ve got your tenth and eleventh selves here, but not the ninth. I wonder why.”

Both missed the sidelong glance the Doctor’s eldest self gave them. It was quiet and melancholy, eyes drifting over the worn, familiar leather of Fitz’s jacket, smelling of cloves, tea, and Time.

“Probably for the best,” he murmured, looking back to their tenth self, who had extricated himself from Elisabeth’s clutches and was beckoning them to his TARDIS parked nearby. Perking up, he swept an arm out, smile firmly back in place. “Shall we, Doctor?”

His younger self echoed the smile and nodded. “After you, Doctor.”

“Can we hurry this up, please?” shouted the Doctor in pinstripes. “In case you’ve forgotten about the  _Zygons_!”

“Oh keep your trousers on, Doctor!” Fitz yelled back with a grin. The tenth incarnation spluttered and disappeared into the TARDIS with a huff. Chortling, his other selves followed. The eighth entered first, and Fitz could be heard to exclaim, “What on  _Earth_ did you do to the TARDIS??”

The eldest Doctor smirked at the familiar complaint, but did not enter, pausing at the door to look at Clara leaning against the frame. “What is it?”

Clara only smiled in sympathy, and abruptly hugged him tight. He couldn’t help but respond, wrapping arms around her smaller frame, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders at the contact.

“What was that for?” he asked quietly, though he knew the answer.

“Just because,” she said, patting his lapels, and entered the box, leaving him to linger. The Doctor inhaled, drawing back his shoulders, and exhaled his sorrows to the past; there would be time enough later to reminisce.

“Right then,” he said, clapping his hands as he entered the TARDIS. “Back to the future.”

They had a planet to save.


End file.
